


sympathy

by forgetcanon



Series: a rising tide raises all starships [3]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: (no violence takes place but it discusses it), But Mostly Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, HIA building, Hurt/Comfort, Peril on Gorgon Spoilers, The Outer Worlds: Peril on Gorgon DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetcanon/pseuds/forgetcanon
Summary: “Max,” Maisie said, from the foot of the bunk- a place she’d learned to wake him from, the hard way. Too far away by far. When he reached for her, she shuffled up, and the squeeze of her embrace and the warm glow of the MSI lanterns were reminders that he was alive and in one piece, not… notthere.
Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: a rising tide raises all starships [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591603
Kudos: 19





	sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> Max's banter: This place reminds me of prison.  
> Me: Oh, does it now? :)

Tartarus was always cold. He was in a suit, a suit of armor, he was trying to follow his orders but he was doing something wrong, he was shooting the targets and running their courses but he was doing something so wrong that they brought him to the conveyor belt and shoved him into the machine, a machine that silently but finally forced him into shape, compressing his insides and snapping bones that would not bend-

Suddenly, it was bright, and Max shoved at the machine- but he wasn’t in a trash compactor. He was in Maisie’s room, on the Unreliable, shoving away the blankets. His whole body ached, and he was cold where he’d sweat though his nightshirt.

“Max,” Maisie said, from the foot of the bunk- a place she’d learned to wake him from, the hard way. Too far away by far. When he reached for her, she shuffled up, and the squeeze of her embrace and the warm glow of the MSI lanterns were reminders that he was alive and in one piece, not… not _there_.

He shuddered.

“ADA,” Maisie said, “Lights to twenty percent?”

The lights dimmed without sass. Odd, that. ADA was never one to pass up an opportunity to crack wise at Max’s expense.

“Did I wake you?” Max asked.

He’d intended it to be a rhetorical question, except Maisie answered, “No, I was already up. Couldn’t really fall asleep.”

“Gorgon?”

She nodded, snuggling into his embrace so that she could rest her forehead on his shoulder. It was hardly surprising.

Max knew, in vague terms, that prisoners from Tartarus getting loaned out to companies for experiments were not precisely getting the gainful employment that they were promised. But there was a difference in turning down a contract with Auntie Cleo, and experiencing the brutal horror of the HIA building.

Someone had designed those tests- fire on command, run for hours on end, and weed out anyone who voiced a word of complaint. Others still had _run_ the prisoners through them. And even more had studied the results and attempted to make meaningful spreadsheets and graphics of the results.

And, somewhere, there had been a maintenance team, keeping the facilities as clean as they could, keeping the doors and lights and trash compactors running as smoothly as they could. How much had they seen? One had to wonder, when one cleaned up liters of blood every single day, where it was all coming from. Did they have to work extra shifts? (And if you’re working extra shifts, what better way to keep alert and active…)

“I keep wondering,” Max said, “if one of the contracts I had been offered during my penitentiary visit had been offered by Spacer’s Choice.”

Maisie’s embrace tightened. “Don’t even suggest that.”

“I never once thought of actually accepting a contract,” Max said truthfully. “On the surface it was all very saccharine- another chance to serve your colony, doing tasks that no one else has the grit and mettle to do, but… It doesn’t take years of studying the Law to realize that a promise to cut a sentence years long to a few months is probably a bad bet. Even so…”

“This is going to sound silly,” Maisie said, “considering I’m sure everyone on this ship knows better now. But never take Adrena-time?”

“Never,” Max said, and the vehemence in his voice startled a laugh out of Maisie. “Laws, never.”

“Good,” Maisie said. “And promise not to laugh at me when I track everyone down tomorrow and make them promise, too.”

Max opened his mouth to say, _Of course no one would, no one on this ship is a moron. There’s no need for that_ , but Maisie knew that already. And she couldn’t sleep, either.

“I promise,” Max said. “ADA, how long did Maisie spend trying to fall asleep?”

“Approximately three hours and eight minutes,” ADA recited dutifully. “After that, she got up to write in her journal and do some bookkeeping.”

“Traitor,” Maisie muttered.

Max looked to the clock- he’d gotten about four hours of sleep before his nightmare got bad enough for Maisie to wake him, and he still felt exhausted and drained. Maisie hadn’t even gotten that.

“You should get some rest,” Max murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Maisie readjusted their embrace, but didn’t reply. He would have to carefully word his next thoughts- he, of all people, knew how pride could make a fool out of someone. “And we should probably take the day off, tomorrow. Make sure our equipment is in order for whatever awaits us in the CHEM labs. It’ll give the crew some time to process what we saw there, as well.”

“You mean, give _me_ some time to process.”

“Would you allow me to try to continue on as normal if I insisted on going out on a ‘hard-and-loud’ mission tomorrow? After the day we just had, and missing an entire night’s rest?”

He could feel Maisie making a face into his shoulder.

“Exactly,” Max said. “On a practical level, it would do no one any favors to have our tactician and leader far from her best. Not to mention that you and I are not the only people being hit by this. Our crew acts tough, but ADA could probably confirm we are not the only ones losing sleep tonight. Someone’s liable to get hurt- imagine how you’d feel if it wasn’t even you.

“On a personal level… you shoulder a lot on your own. And I understand that- I prefer to keep my own counsel, as well. There are things I tell my journal that I don’t tell you, and I’m certain the reverse is true, as well. But the process of, er, _processing_ ,is still… a process.”

“That one got away from you,” Maisie observed.

He scowled. There must be a better way to have phrased that, and he knew it would come to him at a time where it would be absolutely useless and he wouldn’t even be able to write it down. “You’re making fun of my bumbling attempts to comfort you because you don’t have a better argument.”

“…Yeah, I am.” Maisie sighed. “You’re right. You’re right on every point. But… I don’t even want to _try_ to sleep, right now.”

“Tough. We’re going to change the sheets since I already did us the disservice of sweating through them, and then we’re both going to try and get some rest.”

Sometimes, it was all in the voice. Maisie pulled away and glared at him through sleep-beaten eyes, but she didn’t protest. She even got him new sleep clothes to wear and told ADA, “If anyone asks tomorrow, we’re all sleeping in. I don’t expect anyone to be ready to do anything until noon.”

“I’ll keep watch,” ADA promised. “I mean, I always do. But humans like to have the obvious re-stated when they are out of sorts.”

“Thank you,” Maisie said, to the sassy computer program that of which she was so fond. And when she climbed into bed beside Max, she kissed his cheek and said, again, “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure, captain, to contribute to the continued well-being of this crew and the longevity of it’s operations-“

She attempted to smother him with a pillow. It felt good, to laugh.


End file.
